In my first pregnancy, I knew the “rule” for heading to the hospital is when you have contractions 5 minute apart, lasting 1 minute each, for at least 1 hour. However, my body didn’t have a gradual progression through labor. After about 24 hours of mild, irregular contractions, with one check at the hospital that resulted in being sent home, I very suddenly started having extremely painful contractions very close together. The pain and fear were prolonged by roadwork on the way to the hospital. Then, due to a nurse from my OB group mistakenly communicating with the wrong hospital, our arrival was a surprise. I was sobbing in pain and trying to answer registration questions between strong contractions. I was offered an epidural right away. I told them I hadn’t wanted an epidural, but needed something to help. I wasn’t offered alternatives, so I consented to the epidural. Once I was comfortable and composed, I was told that the anesthesiologist had been about to place another woman’s epidural, but they had him do mine first because of how much pain I was in. I felt so guilty about that. Was this just what labor feels like for everyone, and I cut the line for relief? A few hours later, I had a healthy baby girl. Although thrilled to have my healthy baby, I was disappointed in myself. I thought that I hadn’t been as strong as most other women. I felt embarrassed for causing a scene, and was very hung up on the idea that if I had already been at the hospital receiving support before labor got that intense, I’d have been able to handle it better. I was frustrated that my labor experience mainly consisted of being in the car, scared and in horrible pain, while my husband had to focus on driving.
Pregnancy #2
When I was pregnant again a couple years later, I was determined to make my second birth a better experience. I kept asking at prenatal appointments whether I should gauge when to go to the hospital differently this time, explaining that I never had a typical gradual progression in my first labor. I kept getting told, “it’s your second baby; you’ll know when you’re in labor. They generally let you get admitted a little earlier with your second pregnancy.” In the last couple weeks of pregnancy, I started experiencing episodes of contractions. They were always 7-8 minutes apart, but they would completely stop after an hour. I was told this was prodromal labor, and that I should call if contractions lasted longer than an hour or got stronger. I had an appointment on my due date, and the doctor reiterated this information. I believe he swept membranes while he was checking my cervix, although he didn’t specifically say so. The next evening, after putting my daughter to bed and settling on the couch with my husband, I felt a contraction and started timing. The first couple were like I’d experienced all week- slightly uncomfortable, about 7-8 minutes apart. Suddenly, the next one was extremely painful. This was definitely labor. My husband immediately called his mother to come stay with my daughter, while I called the OB number to talk to a nurse. I was having intense contractions a few minutes apart. When the nurse heard that my contractions had only started about 15 minutes prior, she told me she would check with the doctor on duty, but that I’d likely be asked to wait longer at home. My husband and I planned to drive there regardless, but they did give the all clear to head in. My mother-in-law lives very close and arrived a few minutes later. I was crouching in the kitchen, hugging a door frame. It had only been about 25 minutes since my first contraction, but I was in extreme pain and eager to be at the hospital. I only had to walk about 30 feet to the car, so I waited for a contraction to end and started walking, but I had to stop halfway to crouch down on my front steps for a contraction. I was trying to stay calm, hoping that I was better prepared this time for the brutal car ride, now that I had done it before. We actually live right next to a hospital, but it’s not the one where I was meant to deliver and isn’t affiliated with my OB group. We briefly considered just going there when I had to crouch on my front steps, but my husband and I both thought we should go to our planned hospital that was expecting us, about 25 minutes away. The thought of showing up at a hospital that wasn’t expecting me reminded me of my first birth, and I thought I’d probably spend as much time going through registration as I would be spending in the car to go to the correct hospital. Since this abrupt onset of intense contractions was so similar to my first labor, we thought we had plenty of time. The ride was going to be awful again, but if I could tough it out, I’d then have a smooth check-in at the hospital and be able to focus on getting through labor. The sooner we got there, the sooner I’d have support through the pain.
During the drive, the pain was getting even worse and I started panicking that we wouldn’t make it in time. My husband tried reassuring me, but I kept urging him to drive as fast as he could. About 10 minutes into the drive, halfway to the hospital, my water broke with startling force. My husband was still trying to reassure me, but he started sounding more nervous. We were on the highway, speeding around other cars. The contractions were unbearable now, and I told him I needed to start pushing.
Once I felt more certain we weren’t going to make it to the hospital in time, I realized I had to accept the situation and try to stay calm to make this as safe as possible. Instead of begging my husband to drive faster, I urged him to drive only as fast as he felt he safely could. The route to the hospital is tricky, so we were using GPS on my husband’s phone. I asked him to call 911, but he would get lost without the directions and said we were close enough that it would be faster and safer to keep driving, rather than pulling over on the side of the highway in the dark and waiting for help. I was pushing through contractions, and in between I would ask my husband how close we were to the hospital and remind him to drive “fast but safe.” I pushed my pants down to my knees, reclined my seat as far as I could, and scooted onto the back of the seat to make room on the seat itself for the baby to arrive. We were taking the exit towards the hospital and I felt like I had the baby’s head out, but I was afraid to reach down and feel with my hands to check. We pulled up next to the ER entrance, and I asked my husband to look. The color drained from his face and he told me “everything’s ok,” then ran inside for help. His reaction scared me. He later told me that what he had seen had been the whole top half of the baby’s head crowning.
While he was gone, I had a few more contractions and kept pushing. I felt myself tear, and my baby was out. It was dark in the car, and I was still holding myself up awkwardly on the seat back. I couldn’t see my baby the way I was positioned, and I was afraid to move and accidentally hurt her, so I waited for help to arrive. The car was completely silent. What if the baby wasn’t ok and it was my fault? I felt guilty that I hadn’t been strong enough to refrain from pushing until I was at the hospital. My husband came running back out (he later told me he had only run in as far as the security desk and yelled to a guard that his wife was having a baby in the car). He opened my door and held our baby up off the seat a bit. Seconds later, a team of people rushed out with a stretcher and then four nurses were in the car with me. One picked up the baby, and finally, there was a cry. Through the window, I saw my husband standing nearby looking dazed, still very pale, with his hands and coat covered in blood. There was so much blood all over the car and nurses. They clamped and cut the cord. I asked if the baby was ok (yes, thank goodness) and if I’d had a boy or a girl (girl!). One nurse rushed her inside and had my husband follow. I was brought in on a stretcher a few minutes later, and had to deliver the placenta and get stitched up. My memories of this are a bit of a blur, still coming off an adrenaline rush. The room was loud, and it seemed like there were a lot of people. My daughter was screaming the whole time as they checked her over and asked me questions. Luckily, my daughter was in perfect condition. I still felt guilty; I was GBS positive and supposed to get penicillin during labor to protect her. Not only had we not received the antibiotics, but she’d been born on the seat of a Honda CR-V, after a dangerously fast car ride. The nurses estimated the time of birth for the chart, and it was less than an hour from the time my call log says I called the OB office from home when contractions started. I found out later this is called a “precipitous birth,” which is a birth 3 hours or less from the start of labor.
Postpartum, I had mixed feelings. I felt somewhat proud of myself for getting through it, and validated about my first labor- I now knew my body progresses through labor in a very untypical way, giving me very little warning and no time to adjust (I believe the epidural in my first birth was the only reason it hadn’t been precipitous). But I also grieved the experience I’d missed. I had envisioned being in the safety of the hospital by the time things got tough, trying out various coping techniques taught in birthing class, with my husband’s support. I was also frustrated that all my preparations had been in vain, and that I hadn’t been able to make my medical team understand ahead of time my concerns about when to head to the hospital. I kept wondering if I could have done something differently. I criticized myself about how I hadn’t been the first one to pick up my daughter and check her when she was born. I was so shocked and worried about doing more harm than good that I waited a minute until help came. I wanted to talk about it all, but I found people were mostly interested in hearing about the wild ride, without the gory details.
Pregnancy#3
Part of the discussion about whether to have another baby involved how to plan for another precipitous delivery. I got pregnant in January 2020, then of course, the pandemic hit the US, adding another layer of anxiety. I constantly brought up birth planning with my midwife. On my way to an ultrasound, I drove through an intersection near the hospital. I remembered driving through there while birthing my daughter, and instantly my heart rate was up and I was anxious. I had tons of contractions in the third trimester, and would get scared, thinking at any point, these light contractions may just turn into active labor and I’d give birth wherever I was. My husband was also nervous any time I felt a little crampy, frequently asking me if we needed to go to the hospital. My midwife was amazing and empathetic to my anxiety throughout the pregnancy. She took the time to listen to my concerns and reassure me and discuss plans for birth. Still, any time contractions started, I didn’t know whether it was going to be a short bout of Braxton Hicks, or if I would be giving birth within the hour.
Together with the midwife, we decided on a scheduled induction to ensure I’d deliver in the hospital. We didn’t have any babysitters because of covid, so we planned for my husband to stay with the kids and I would go to the hospital alone. Induction was booked for exactly 39 weeks, but I got bumped for two more days because of more urgent cases, which further increased my anxiety. Also, my amazing midwife that we’d been hoping to be scheduled with was going to be unavailable, but she assured me she had thoroughly briefed all the other midwives on my case.
When my husband dropped me off, I panicked during the drive because I felt like I was close to going into labor on my own and worried I wouldn’t get there in time. When I arrived, I was 2cm dilated and having very mild contractions like I’d been having in recent days. After getting my first dose of Misoprostol, I was left to try to sleep before the next dose. Instead, shortly after the nurse left, I called her back in because I’d had two strong contractions. When they came back to my room, the midwife offered to get a bath filled for me to make me more comfortable, and I realized they didn’t understand how close to delivery I was. I was having another contraction before I could really say much. They spoke to each other at the foot of my bed about what course of action to take. I was now completely discouraged. I thought I’d done everything to make sure this delivery would be better. I wanted someone to keep me calm and remind me that I could get through this. It felt like I was laboring alone again, despite the good intentions of my team, because I couldn’t communicate my needs well at this stage. I started crying between contractions that I couldn’t do it and wanted pain meds. They offered an epidural, but I knew there was no time. The midwife checked my cervix and sounded surprised when she announced I was 8cm. I told them I had to push. They quickly set up and hurried to get nitrous oxide for me. A few minutes later, my son was born. It had only been about 45 minutes since I’d called the nurse into the room, and it felt like a chaotic blur.
The Effect of Precipitous Deliveries
A weird effect of precipitous delivery is the shock of going from pregnancy to holding your child seemingly a moment later. I don’t remember the golden hour, except that I think I heard a woman in another room celebrate a birth with her partner, and I had called my husband to let him know we’d had our son. I felt sad that I hadn’t been as mentally present as I’d wanted to be, and hadn’t had a chance to FaceTime my husband for the birth like we planned. Again, I felt like I’d failed to make things go smoother. I was GBS positive again, and even with a scheduled induction, my baby hadn’t received adequate protection because my penicillin wasn’t started early enough. We needed to stay an extra night at the hospital, during a pandemic and without my husband, so my son could be monitored. Luckily, I had a few really good nurses postpartum who took my son to the nurses’ station for a few hours two of the nights, so I could get a little sleep. I don’t blame my L&D team, because I know my labors are highly unusual, but I also don’t think I could have advocated for myself any more than I had, and was confused at their surprise when my labor went so quickly. I think there needs to be more effort in the L&D community to trust that women know their bodies and to understand that mother nature doesn’t read the textbooks and doesn’t always follow the “rules.”
The Author
My name is Sarah, and I’m a stay-at-home mom to three in the Boston area. I enjoy coffee, painting, home improvement, and all things creative.
I have two beautiful children, 3 years old and just turned 1. Both of my pregnancies were rough. Both of their births were even more rough. I will start with the first.
First Pregnancy
With my first we tried to get pregnant for 8 months before finally getting pregnant. I was beyond excited when I finally saw that positive sign on the test. But, the pregnancy was no cakewalk. I was so sick, vomiting every day until the day I gave birth. I lost 20 pounds in the first few months, I looked and felt terrible. My baby was breech until 34 weeks, I convinced myself I would just have to have a scheduled cesarean because I couldn’t risk a version. But when she turned head down, I was practically jumping for joy. There was nothing I wanted more than to have a “normal” vaginal delivery. I developed borderline gestational hypertension at the end of the pregnancy and begged to be induced at 39 weeks for a combination of the hypertension along with just being plain miserable. The morning of my induction at 5am, I got a call from the labor and delivery charge nurse saying that they were understaffed and busy. Basically, I was placed “on call” for when I could come in to be induced. I had to call every few hours to check in on the status of things. Finally, at 4pm, they said I could come in! This was the evening of December 23rd.
Hospital Time!
I got to the hospital, was checked, and I was 2-3cm. They started me on Pitocin to begin my induction. I was so nervous that my labor was going to be long and I would have to deal with the oncoming OBGYN that next day. I knew the doctor on the next day and he was someone that I avoided because of the way he treats people. I labored throughout the night, not really feeling the contractions too much. They came in to break my water at 2am. I then requested nitrous oxide as the contractions were beginning to be more intense.
The OB came in again at 5am to check my progress before he left, he said I was 6cm (I was 5cm when he broke my water). The OB that I was trying to avoid came in about 8am on December 24th. First thing he did was check me and said there was no way that I was 6cm, that I was no more than 5 and that we needed to start talking about a c-section. He also said that he wanted an IUPC (intrauterine pressure catheter) placed to see how effective my contractions were, and if they couldn’t keep the baby on the monitor, they would need to place a scalp electrode. I had written a birth plan that stated I did not want internal monitoring, and wanted to avoid a cesarean if possible. This was all within 10 minutes of him coming on shift, in that time he had just shattered my confidence and tried to force me into everything I didn’t want. I reluctantly agreed to the IUPC and asked if we could try an epidural to attempt to relax enough to dilate further. Even though I wanted an unmedicated delivery, I wanted a vaginal delivery more. So I got the epidural, and I was able to rest a little, but I needed the anesthesiologist to come back and bolus my epidural multiple times due to breakthrough pain. Of note, I was still able to move around in the bed with the epidural.
At about 2pm, I started shaking, thinking I was cold, I asked for warm blankets. Come to find out, I was complete and baby was ready to come! I started crying I was so happy, we were finally getting somewhere! After pushing for two hours, the OB came in to check my progress. He mentioned again about the need for a c-section if I couldn’t get her out. Thankfully at this point, her heart rate was still doing ok so I told him I was going to continue to try. After hour 3 of pushing, the OB came in again to check progress. He said she had not come down any further than the last time he was in. He said we could talk about vacuum or forceps, but he really didn’t think she was going to come this way. I was so incredibly exhausted and tired at this point (25 hours since admission), and we could see on the monitor that baby was getting tired as well (her heart rate began dipping with contractions). I knew in my heart that a c-section was in the best interest of everyone.
Birth of My Daughter
The medication they gave me for the c-section made me violently ill. I could not stop vomiting all the way in to the OR, on to the bed, and even laying there while they draped everything. I could still move my feet after the anesthesiologist had dosed my epidural, and I asked him if that was normal. He assured me that it could be normal. Then they did the pinch test to see what I could feel. I told them that some of their pinches were very noticeable. But, I was brushed off, because they began. My husband was not in the OR yet when they made the first cut. When he did come in, I remember telling him that I needed him to come hold my hand because it hurt so much. I kept moaning and screaming that I could feel so much, but no one was listening. I remember just trying to hold out for that baby’s first cry that just never came. The next thing I remember was waking up (I had blacked out) and trying to focus on the screen in front of me. I saw a baby, purple, and frankly not very cute, wrapped up lying on my chest and screaming its head off. Words that I couldn’t control were coming out my mouth, “its ok baby”. I had absolutely no idea who this baby was. Then I blacked out again.
The next time I woke up, the room wouldn’t stop spinning and I couldn’t focus my eyes on anything. There was so much pain and they were closing me up.
I don’t remember my daughter being born, I have pictures of me with her in the OR with my eyes open and looking at her, that I don’t remember. I was given Ketamine, a medication to make me forget (blackout) instead of being put under general anesthesia. I have bits and pieces that I flash back to and a visceral memory of the pain of them cutting me. I had severe PTSD and PPD that I had to work through in my recovery. But I finally did.
Second Pregnancy
My second baby was a quick positive test, much to our surprise. But, the pregnancy was just as difficult. Once again being diagnosed with Hyperemesis until the day I gave birth. I had to go in to get IV fluids several times because I couldn’t even keep water down. But, this time I was determined. I switched OB providers (I couldn’t risk having the same delivery doctor again) and hired a doula because I was going to get a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). But, then the pandemic hit. I am a nurse and I was petrified to go to work being 8 months pregnant. I was able to go out on maternity leave a little early, and I soaked in those last couple of weeks of being a family of 3.
On the morning of April 25th, 2020, I woke up at 4am with severe back pain that I couldn’t get to go away. I wasn’t sure if this was labor or not, so I called my mom to come to the house (she’s a labor nurse). She arrived at 6:30am and decided we should have my doula come to the house at 9am. My mom thought this was early/prodromal labor since I could talk and laugh between “contractions”. She was still saying this when we decided to call the OB on-call at the hospital at 2pm to see what I should do. The OB said I should go ahead and head in to the hospital since I was a TOLAC (trial of labor after cesarean) and see how baby was doing.
Birth of My Son
When I arrived at the hospital (mind you, I still didn’t know if I was in active labor or not), they checked me and I was 7-8cm. I was admitted and the OB came to talk with me. She wanted me to get an epidural as she likes all of her TOLAC patients to have in case of an emergency. I told her my experience with the epidural was extremely traumatic and I absolutely would not get one this time. I stated I knew the risks and I was ok with being put under a general if an emergency arose. She said ok. After an hour I had not made any progress, so they broke my water. After my water broke the contractions became a little more unbearable. They became intense and extremely painful. I called my doula to put her on speakerphone (she couldn’t come to the hospital due to COVID) and she helped me breathe through the contractions. I tried sitting on the side of the bed on an exercise ball to get through it, but at one point I was practically crawling up the walls in pain. At the point that I said I couldn’t do it anymore, I was uncontrollably pushing with each contraction. The nurse was having a hard time picking up baby on the monitor so she had me stand up and she checked me…complete! It was time to see this baby. So I crawled in to the bed, caught my IV on the bedsheets and it pulled out. All of a sudden a ton of people came in to the room. They were all dressed head to toe in PPE so I could only see their eyes. As I was getting situated in the bed, they put a scalp electrode on baby’s head (2 of them) and were picking up a heart rate of about 40, and it was not recovering. One nurse was on my arm trying to restart the IV and the other nurse was in my face telling me that we needed to get this baby out NOW. I needed to push him out NOW, he was not doing well. After about 3 pushes, I could feel a very quick ring of fire and then his head was out. I kept pushing and his body was out. A gush of blood came out with him (later found out my placenta was abrupting). They placed him very quickly on my abdomen but he was pale, limp, not moving, and not crying. They swiftly cut the cord and the NICU team came in to start working on him. He needed 2 minutes of PPV and 9 minutes of CPAP before he finally started whimpering. He had a tight nuchal and a true knot in his cord that tightened during transition. I know that God was looking over us that day because if I had not made it into the hospital when I did, and had I accidentally had him at home, he would not have survived. If I had had an epidural, my body would not have taken over and pushed him out as quickly as it did, and he would have been without oxygen for so much longer trying to get him out in the OR.
I am so incredibly grateful for my babies but it was a really hard road to get to where we are. Breastfeeding has been a struggle with both kids as well, failed with my daughter and limped our way to one year with my son.
About theAuthor:
Hi, I’m Megan! I was born and raised in Oregon. I am a postpartum nurse, loving wife, and mama to two little kiddos and two crazy dogs.
My husband Mike and I tried for one month in the spring of 2015 before we conceived our first child. For Mike, seeing those two pink lines caused him to grin from ear to ear, but for me – my mind went to the emotion of fear. Maybe my body knew something that my brain didn’t, or maybe it was just my anxiety rearing its ugly head again, but when I saw those lines I panicked. I let the tears fall down my face until I finally gathered myself together and chose a different emotion – trust.
Pregnancy
Overall, I had a fairly easy first and second trimester, I had some nausea and some food aversions, but I handled it in stride. It wasn’t until around 19 weeks where some problems started to arise. My scan showed polyhydramnios – a large amount of amniotic fluid around our son. I, of course, was scared because it could mean a multitude of different conditions. However, more scans and tests showed our son was perfectly healthy and this was just how my pregnancy was. I had to go once a week for scans to make sure that the fluid wasn’t getting out of control and I was happy to go and see my active little guy each week.
At 31 weeks gestation I woke up and used the bathroom at around 7:30 am and when I wiped for whatever reason I looked at the toilet paper and saw bright red blood. I screamed for Mike and we called our doctor who advised us to get to the hospital immediately. I remember getting dressed and shaking just praying to God that he would protect us. We drove the 20 minute drive and arrived to the L&D unit of the hospital where they were expecting us. They ran a lot of tests and concluded the bleeding was due to shortening of the cervix and the contractions I was having were forcing my body into early labor. I had contractions pretty much all day from 18 weeks, my sister and Mother had the same so I just assumed it was normal for my family. They told me I needed to stay overnight to be monitored and they gave me Magnesium Sulfate to calm the contractions down. I was nervous and scared and felt horrible on the Magnesium. I had double vision and they had to draw my blood all night to make sure I wasn’t receiving too much. After a few days I was off of that medicine and the bleeding had stopped. Things were starting to look better. They decided they would send me home on bedrest. I felt so uneasy about going home because I felt safer being monitored. Just as they were getting the discharge papers together the tech took my vitals and my blood pressure was around 160/99. She got the doctor and they decided I wasn’t going home. I felt completely out of control and so angry at my body that all of these things kept happening to me. The staff at the hospital were so wonderful to me during this time. They made me feel at home, reassured me and kept me sane.
Birth “Wow-I did it”
After many tests, it showed I had pregnancy induced hypertension and needed to remain in the hospital until I gave birth. Those next couple of weeks were tough – I felt so lonely, upset and terrified. All day, I was fearful and dreaded each time they came in to take my blood pressure. I tried SO hard to be calm but nothing really worked. My doctor told me they needed me to deliver at 34 weeks because it was getting dangerous for both me and my son to remain pregnant. I was relieved but also terrified. I told everyone I was scared to die, that I didn’t want to die, that I wanted to be able to live and be a mother to my son. I knew something was off and I knew something would happen. The morning of December 8, 2015 came and we were moved to an L&D room to be induced. After about four hours I got up to use the bathroom and when I got settled back into bed I felt a gush – I thought my water broke. The nurse came in and looked confused and said there was some blood but not to panic. Then I felt another gush and watched as my husband, nurse and mother-in-law’s faces were etched with concern. Within seconds, my doctor was there along with an anesthesiologist and a few more nurses. I remember asking my doctor to come close to me and I begged her not to let me die. She told me she wouldn’t let me die and I was wheeled into the OR while I was signing my life away in paperwork. Once I was numb, Mike was allowed to come in. I couldn’t see very much because they took my glasses off, but I was glad that he was there. I kept asking if they were almost done. I was so nervous and kept getting waves of nausea. Once he came out they yelled, “5 pounds once ounce!” and I felt like “Wow, I did it.” The NICU team worked on Camden for a few minutes before my nurse brought him to me all wrapped up and said “Look what you worked so hard for, MOM” and I kissed him on his cheek and told him I loved him so much. They whisked him off to the NICU and Mike followed him.
Recovery, More Chaos
The nurses and doctors wheeled me into the recovery room and my nurse stayed right by my side. My blood pressure was up and down and she kept massaging my uterus every five minutes while she checked for bleeding. After about 10 minutes she checked again and I saw that same look wash over her face. I asked her “is everything okay?” and she just said there was more bleeding than there should be. My doctor rushed back in and they gave me a shot of something and ran more tests. There were a ton of nurses around me and they were covering me in warm blankets and trying to find a vein to start another line. My doctor told me they needed to transfer me to the ICU because the recovery room wasn’t equipped to handle this situation. As I was being wheeled to the ICU they started me back on Magnesium to control my blood pressure and once I was in the ICU they started blood transfusions. The ICU is truly a terrifying place. There are so many sounds and bright lights and it’s filled with such fear and sadness. They found me a room and I had such a kind nurse as I did in every place in that hospital, but nothing comforted me. I honestly didn’t know if I would live or die and I couldn’t feel my legs or see straight due to the medications. I just laid there clenching my legs praying to God that I wouldn’t feel that gushing feeling again. They gave me blood transfusions through the night and I didn’t allow myself to sleep for fear that I wouldn’t wake up.
In the morning, my MFM Doctor arrived and he was the kindest man in the world (a year after my son was born he tragically died of a heart attack). He told me he “didn’t want to believe I had lost so much blood” and held my hand as he told me the plan for the day. He was an angel from God I am certain. My Dad and sister drove from Maryland to be with me and my Dad held my hand the whole day. His love and comfort made me feel like I was going to pull through this. I saw my sister’s face turn white when she saw me and I knew I looked like death. The day was filled with more blood transfusions and tests and doctors. I had another sleepless night but I felt like I was starting to turn a corner. They continued to give me cyro to help with clotting because one of my factors kept going up and then back down. Other than that my numbers were starting to turn around and go back to normal.
The second day they told me I was going to be transferred back upstairs to our room on the mother baby unit, I couldn’t believe it. I made it. I can be a mother to my son. The first time I stood up I didn’t know how I could ever walk again, it was so painful. I hadn’t been allowed to move in two days and I could barely move without excruciating pain due to the c-section. But, God. God was written all over this story of mine. I mustered up the strength to move a little and try to pee by myself (first time in two days! I had a folly) I felt proud of myself for so many reasons. They told me I could go see Camden and I was shaking. I was so nervous. It really is a terrible feeling not being able to see your child for days after having him taken out of your body. I think so much of my attachment to him now stems from the trauma of missing his first few days of his life, it was such a terrible feeling. When we got to the NICU they handed me my little boy, my perfect little boy and I just sang to him and cried. I looked over every inch of his little body marveling at the goodness of God. Every day I got stronger and stronger, pushing through the pain and pumping away to provide for Camden.
Discharge, Bittersweet
After a week, we were told that we could go home, and it was a bittersweet feeling. That hospital had become my home, the nurses and doctors and staff – my friends, my family. I had a sense of comfort there because I was monitored and looked after, who would look after me now? The day we left Mike and I both cried, it was so emotional – those people saved my life, they saved my son’s life. Fast forward five years and my little boy is growing so tall – he’s had some challenges – two eye surgeries to correct strabismus but other than that he is just perfect. He is so smart and kind, his heart is made of pure love and I couldn’t be prouder of the young man he is becoming.
The Emotional Recovery
As for me, I am still here – the PTSD and trauma affect my life every day. I have severe health anxiety which is a struggle for me but I try my hardest to push it aside and be the best Mom to my son. This experience has made me so grateful to be a Mother and I have spent every day for five years being the best Mom I can be to my son and I am so grateful for that. I was able to be home with him and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, it has been the best. In the beginning of my story, when I said “My body knew something my brain didn’t” It turns out after testing that I have a very rare congenital bleeding disorder – Dysfibrinogenemia, my body makes the right amount of fibrinogen but it is “dysfunctional”. My doctors think that could’ve been part of the reason for what happened but the high blood pressure and the Polyhydramnios also didn’t help matters. Regardless of any of that I am so glad that I am here today, I am so glad to be a Mother to my son and I am glad that maybe one day I can help someone else feel less alone who has had or is going through a birth trauma. No matter how much time has passed the trauma remains just as prominent as it was on that day, and all anyone can do to help is be kind, listen and try to understand.
It all began on Tuesday, September 29, 2020 at 37 weeks and 6 days. I was on quarantine for work to be sure I didn’t have Covid when I delivered since I’m a teacher. I woke up and felt fine. As the day progressed, I began to feel more uncomfortable. My stomach was starting to hurt, but I couldn’t really pinpoint what was going on. I didn’t feel like cooking, so we ended up ordering take out for dinner. I was able to eat, however as the night progressed I began to feel more sick. By that night, I was extremely uncomfortable. I mentioned to my husband that we should maybe go to the hospital, however he felt like I was just in early labor. We both wanted to avoid being sent home from the hospital, so we tried to go on a walk outside. I only made it about two houses down, when we had to turn around. It was late, so my husband said we should just try to go to sleep. He went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I began pacing the house and then realized I had shooting right shoulder pain. I’ve always held tension there, so I just assumed I was nervous about my impending delivery and put a heating pad on my shoulder. I didn’t sleep the entire night and by 3:00 AM, I was vomiting. I finally woke my husband after the second time I vomited. I asked him to go get some Sprite and crackers. It was after he left that I called the on-call doctor. When she heard what was going on, she said it was probably best to head to the hospital.
The Emergency Room
When my husband came home, he quickly threw a bag together and we headed to the hospital. By the time we arrived at the hospital, I was unable to walk from the ER to Labor and Delivery. They asked me to change and use the restroom, but I just didn’t feel like I could. I had a hard time stating what was going on other than just telling them I didn’t feel well. I just kept telling them my stomach hurt, however I never mentioned the shoulder pain because I assumed that was just my stress. My blood pressure was normal and the baby’s heart rate was fine. All of my symptoms really seemed to indicate a stomach bug. We really thought we were going to be sent home, however I got up to go to the restroom and my son’s heart rate dropped at that point. I am so thankful the monitors picked this up, because I had been fighting keeping them on my belly. I was in excruciating pain and I kept pulling them off. After my son’s heart rate dropped, my doctor ordered an ultrasound to complete an assessment on my son. This was extremely painful, however this is what saved my life as well as my son’s. The ultrasound technician asked if I had fallen. Apparently, my liver was enlarged and she could see a lesion. I hadn’t fallen, so she continued with the test. When I asked how my son did, she said my son was in distress. It was then that we realized we were going to be having a baby that day. At that point, my doctor said he wasn’t sure if I would have a c-section or a vaginal delivery. I knew there was absolutely no way I was pushing him out. They immediately ordered a blood test, and it was when that came back that everything began moving so incredibly quickly.
The OR
They had sent my husband to the car to bring in all of our bags. While he was gone, my doctor came in and said they would be performing a c-section and I would have to be under general anesthesia. I was devastated. My husband came back into the room and I was sobbing. They explained what was happening, and then I looked at the nurse and told her I was going to get sick. The doctor later said that when they looked at me, all of the color drained from my body. I began vomiting all over myself and the nurse. It was at this time that the memories began to come and go. They immediately began wheeling me to the operating room. The doctors wanted to perform my surgery in the OR as opposed to where they perform c-sections, however they didn’t think they had enough time to get me there. My OB later said that if they’d made the decision to take me to the main OR, I would not have survived. I do not remember being wheeled into the OR. Once inside, I met the anesthesiologist. She was amazing and very comforting. I begged her to put me to sleep because I was in so much pain. I remember them having to put me onto the metal table and I remember everyone racing around the room to prepare. I had no idea what was going on or what I was going to be waking up to, I just knew I needed to be put to sleep. Right before they put me to sleep, I looked at the anesthesiologist and told her to please be sure I’d wake up. She told me she would make sure of it.
I did not wake up until the next morning. They were easing me out of sedation to see how I responded. I was still on the ventilator and was strapped to the bed so that I could not pull it out. All I could think about was how I couldn’t breathe. It was 4 AM and the hospital had allowed my husband to stay on the mother and baby floor in case I woke up. I was in the ICU and due to Covid restrictions, he was not allowed to remain in my room overnight. My son was in the NICU, and again, due to Covid he could not stay in the room with him. They called my husband’s room and told him to come down to me. The only way I could communicate was by writing. He told me our baby was a boy and showed me his picture. I don’t remember much from this encounter, just the few things my husband has since told me. They put me back under sedation until they removed the ventilator later that morning.
A Diagnosis and Terrifying Realization
I woke up to my OB sitting by my bed later that morning. He explained that I had HELLP syndrome with DIC and that my liver had ruptured. They’d had to cut me open from my pubic bone to my breast bone. That definitely explained the extreme pain I was experiencing. I’d received 24 different blood products, including 7 units of blood. Through our conversations over the next several months, I learned just how scary my situation was. I learned that at one point, my surgeon placed his hand on my aorta to feel for a pulse because there was no blood pressure. I learned that they were ready to begin CPR at any moment. I learned that my nurse in the ICU was thankful when she came back the next day and saw how much better I was doing, because she was nervous when she went home that night. I truly learned how very fortunate my son and I both were to be alive.
Meeting William
I was in the ICU for 2 days. On the second day, they told me I had to get out of bed. I was terrified. The tiny nurse lifted me from the bed to the chair. She brought me supplies to wash my face and brush my teeth. I finally felt human again. After sitting in the chair for a few hours, they decided they could move me back to labor and delivery, and it was on October 2, 2020 that I met my son William Patrick for the first time. I couldn’t care for him like I’d hoped. If I wanted to hold him, my husband had to hand him to me. We were able to do skin to skin like I’d wanted to the day he was born when we finally met. We stayed in the hospital for a total of 5 nights. My recovery was brutal. I had about 15 pounds of fluid in my body and my feet hurt horribly from the swelling. I couldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams how awful this was. It took me a little while to bond with my son and reconcile all that we had been through. I still have flashbacks and I still see things that stop me in my tracks. Just the other day I was looking through my planbook at school. I just happened to flip to the plans I had left for the substitute that week. Seeing what they were doing at the exact time I was laying on the hospital table dying, took me back. There will be times William does something cute or when he just smiles at me, and I think just how close I came to missing out on all of these moments. I hope that by sharing my story, I not only increase awareness for the need for blood donations, but also increase awareness for HELLP Syndrome. If it saves even one woman, then it is totally worth it!
The Author
My name is Katherine Bredemeier. I am 35 years old and this was my first baby after a miscarriage in August of 2019. I live in Kansas City, MO and teach second grade. I enjoy volunteering at local animal shelters. We currently have 3 rescue dogs: a terrier mix named Alex, a Scottish Terrier named Winnie, and a chihuahua mix named Ginger. I am looking forward to my first summer of not teaching summer school and just spending every day with William!
My husband and I conceived our twins in the summer of 2020 via IUI after struggling for a while to get pregnant. Preeclampsia had been my biggest fear the entire pregnancy and I did every possible thing I could to prevent it despite ticking all the boxes that basically guaranteed I would develop it, namely the chronic hypertension and twin pregnancy. My pregnancy was picture perfect until 32 weeks when I started noticing my daily blood pressure readings were gradually increasing but not to a crazy amount. I never expected any of the events that would take place over the next several weeks, let alone the ensuing trauma. I suffered the traumatic unexpected loss of my younger sister 5 years ago so I was no stranger to it, but this was on a whole different level.
Thursday 1/14/21 – 32 weeks 5 days
I had an appointment scheduled for 32+5 so I made sure to mention my BPs when I went. They took my reading and it came back 132/100. The doctor didn’t like the bottom number so she ordered a more detailed urine panel and some bloodwork. I told her my numbers from my BP cuff at home were normal (later found out my cuff was broken and giving me false normals) and despite one swollen ankle that would swell prior to pregnancy, I felt completely fine and normal. Either way, she suspected preeclampsia was setting in but wanted to wait until the tests were back before confirming.
Friday 1/15/21 – 32 weeks 6 days
I had an NST the next morning and the OB had asked for my BP to be monitored a few times while there. NST was normal aside from my little boy constantly eluding the monitors. Both times my BP was registering in the 140/90s. They wanted to see the labs before releasing me but they weren’t in so they let me go and said they would call later. Around lunch time, I got a call from the doctor that there was protein in my urine and the amount was significant. She wanted me to go to L & D for the first of two betamethasone shots in case I would need to deliver early, another NST and BP monitoring. I went in and my readings stayed high but the doctor ultimately released me with instructions to complete a 24 hour urine test, increase my BP med and to come back the next day for the next shot, another NST and more BP monitoring. I told her this just all seemed so excessive because I felt perfectly fine. I wasn’t.
Saturday 1/16/2021 – 33 weeks
I went into L&D the next day expecting to be in and out, but I was so wrong. My BP was 160/106 and stayed there the entire time. My urine was loaded with protein. My NST however was perfect. Everything happened pretty quickly after that. They admitted me, did the covid test, hooked me up to IVs, a magnesium drip and catheter and told me my babies were going to be delivered at 34 weeks unless my condition worsened over the next week. My husband was able to come by to drop off stuff to me and it gave us the opportunity to talk everything out with the OB and NICU staff since it was guaranteed they would be spending time there. I spent the rest of the night burning from the mag drip. Yuck!
Sunday 1/17/21 – Tuesday 1/19/21
Our virtual shower took place on Sunday morning with me in the hospital, still burning away from the mag. I came off the mag later that day and was moved to the maternity floor to stay until delivery. I was also told I would be getting a c-section on Monday 1/25 because it would be safer in my condition. I didn’t mind, I just wanted to deliver them in the safest possible way. I basically spent those few days cooped up waiting for my condition to worsen. There is nothing like that feeling, waiting for the other shoe to drop and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It was all traumatizing in its own way especially after dealing with the infertility, because it was literally my body failing me and my babies. I had to get 2x daily NSTs which always took FOREVER because my boy loved to hide. One time it took 5 nurses, a doctor and an ultrasound machine to locate him! He garnered quite the reputation on the maternity floor for being a challenge. My BPs stayed in the 130s/80s with the occasional 140s/90s.
Wednesday 1/20/21 – 33 weeks 4 days
I woke up around 3am with horrible back pain and occasional contractions so I immediately started panicking. When the nurse came in for a BP check around 4am, I told her what I was feeling and she told me my BP was 165/110. She called the doctor on call who ordered hydralazine. Luckily my numbers went down but not by much. They ran my blood and one of the doctors from my practice told me that while my other numbers looked fine, my platelet count was dropping, indicating it was likely HELLP syndrome setting in and that I had to deliver sooner than planned, definitely no later than the next day. Luckily my favorite doctor would be there so we scheduled for 1/21/21 at 9:30am. My BP spiked again later in the day so they gave me more hydralazine. They moved me to L & D that night so my husband could stay with me. Because of Covid, he hadn’t been to any appointments so he appreciated getting to witness an NST and impromptu ultrasound since little man decided to be elusive again.
Thursday 1/21/21- Birth Day & Hemorrhage
Everything got started bright and early. They ran my blood work again and my platelet count actually went up slightly which was comforting. My doctor came in and went over everything with us. It was the first time my husband got to meet him. They got me started on another mag drip and gave me some zofran and wheeled me into the OR. The spinal wasn’t bad at all but as expected, my BP dropped significantly within about a minute (from 138/96 to 90/50). I felt weird so the anesthesiologist gave me a shot of epinephrine and I felt completely normal almost instantly. My husband came into the OR and they got to work.
My baby boy, Alan Winslow III or A3, was out first and cried as soon as they cleared out his mouth. He weighed 4 lbs 7 oz and was 17.3 inches long. Baby girl, Jocelyn Devan (after my late sister, Devan) came out screaming, pissed off she was pulled from under her cozy rib cage (the nurses later told me they never saw the doctor have to reach up so high to grab a baby). She weighed 4 lbs and was also 17.3 inches long. Despite being born early, both were stabilized quickly and went off to the NICU while I got sewn up. After spending time in recovery, we made a pit stop at the NICU for a few minutes before going back to my room. While I did get to see them briefly after my c-section, I didn’t get to hold my daughter until the day after birth and my son for 4 days. Despite the C-paps covering their faces, my babies were perfection!
I regained feeling over the next few hours and had relatively little pain. Around dinner time, my husband was in the NICU and I started to feel some gushes. I told the nurse next time she came by. She checked me out and I could tell something was wrong. She told me I was bleeding much more than normal and before I knew it, several nurses came rushing into the room and a doctor, hooking up new IV meds, talking to each other about transfusions and possible surgery, but not actually talking to me. The doctor came to the bedside and told me they were going to have to manually remove clots and that it may hurt but that she had small hands. Before I had time to ask questions, she started and it was the worst most painful five plus minutes of my life. Just as I was about to pass out from the pain, it was over. All said and done, I lost over two liters of blood between the c-section and hemorrhage. Apparently it’s not uncommon for twin deliveries and being on a magnesium drip but it was the one situation I didn’t think would happen. They tried to take my blood shortly after and almost all of my veins were blown. It was by far the scariest thing I have ever experienced in my life and I am still incredibly traumatized from it, I think mainly because it happened and the doctor on call just left, if anything she treated me as if I was an annoyance. Thank god for the nurses! I will be forever thankful for them for everything they did to help me through it all.
NICU
The next few days were a blur of going to the NICU, resting and pumping. My bleeding in the hospital and beyond was minimal, probably due to the hemorrhage, which I try to see as a silver lining. My BP was low-normal and stayed that way aside from some mild elevations. I was discharged 4 days later, but my babies had to stay. Within two days of birth my daughter was on room air. My son had breathing assistance until about 2 weeks after birth and required the use of surfactant. Both had anemia, my son more severely to the point he needed several Epogen shots. She was discharged two days shy of 4 weeks old. He was discharged at 9 weeks. He struggled with feeding which they at first attributed to his anemia but after finally getting him medicated for his reflux and changing his formula, he quickly turned the corner and was home within a week. To this day, when he has a light feeding or when I think his skin looks paler than normal, I start panicking that he is going to wind up back in the hospital. I have to remind myself that he will make up for his bad feeding later and then some and that the poor kid got my fair Irish skin. The NICU is traumatic all on its own and the full experience of ours could fill a book! Thankfully, they are both absolutely thriving at home and are such precious babies. I can’t imagine my life without them!
Alan III at 2 days old vs 3 months old
Two days after birth, we had a very scary incident take place during one of our trips to the NICU. After making a few unkind comments to me about breastfeeding and how I shouldn’t try to touch my son so much, this one nurse (she was a floater from another hospital) was changing my daughter’s feeding tube from her mouth to her nose, hitting her vagus nerve in the process and causing her to go into bradycardia. She tried to stimulate her but needed the assistance of another more seasoned nurse who came to help make sure our baby was okay. Seeing her tiny limp body in the hands of this amazing nurse was absolutely terrifying. Meanwhile, the nurse that screwed up walked away and on her way back passed out on me! I was sitting in the recliner and thought she tripped until she fell on me. I quickly lunged from the chair, two days post c-section no less, and she sat there for a while until she said she felt better. Then she got up and stood just to the side of the isolette and not a minute later passed out hard, fell back and hit her head and was out cold. Several nurses ran over (the one was still working on our daughter) and the doctor asked us to go back to our room, despite us not knowing if our daughter was in a stable condition. This had to be the most terrifying thing we experienced and it still makes me feel sick when I think of it. The wonderfully kind doctor came to our room shortly after and explained exactly what happened with the vagus nerve and resulting bradycardia and let us know our daughter was fine and she personally made sure of it.
Jocelyn at 2 days old vs. 3 months old
The Aftermath
When I got home and saw my reflection in the mirror, I looked like I had been through a war. I had lost over 30 pounds in 3 days so I looked sunken from the rapid weight loss, pale from the blood loss (and resulting anemia) and bruised up and down my arms from all the IVs and blown veins. Because of the hemorrhage, my milk supply was awful, never producing more than an ounce per pumping session. I don’t know if it was all the trauma (preeclampsia, hemorrhage and NICU), all the magnesium or a combination of both but I do not remember at all what it felt like to be pregnant and even worse, I don’t remember how it felt when my babies kicked. I’m beyond heartbroken over that.
First photo after Alan’s NICU discharge
There are a lot of things I sadly missed out on not only because of my situation but also because of Covid: not having my husband be able to attend appointments and ultrasounds, having to attend my baby shower from the confines of the hospital, no skin to skin, none of those beautiful newborn photos I so badly wanted and so much more. I try not to dwell on it because at the end of the day, I am so incredibly fortunate to have walked away from it alive with two healthy babies. I do find myself downplaying the trauma I experienced when I know whoever I am talking to either is uncomfortable hearing what happened to me or simply just can’t comprehend that kind of trauma. I also feel guilty that I am so traumatized when other people had it worse. My doctor has said we are fine to have more kids in 2 years but we are most likely going to forego growing our family with more tiny humans and stick to adding dogs instead. This was just too eye opening to all that can go wrong and I can’t imagine risking leaving my husband and babies who need me here.
The Author
My name is Brooke and I live in Harleysville, Pennsylvania. I am married to my teenage crush turned husband, Alan, mom to twins, Alan and Jocelyn and fur child, Abby. You can follow me on Instagram at @brooke_test
I became pregnant with my first child in late July 2017. Everything about this pregnancy seemed normal, healthy, and routine. I didn’t have morning sickness, or gain excess weight. I passed the gestational diabetes test and was measuring big, but on track. I did have my fair share of annoyances: crazy heartburn, trouble sleeping, hormonal acne, terrible upper rib pain on the left side. But everything looked, felt, and seemed like a normal pregnancy. Until it wasn’t.
On my due date, May 3, 2018, I felt horrible. I figured that’s how every soon-to-be mom felt in the days before giving birth, so I wasn’t too concerned. I knew I had my 40 week appointment at 5:00, so I sat on the couch and tried to make myself comfortable. In the waiting room at the hospital, the nurse came out, took one look at me and rushed me up to the Birth Center. They hooked me up and I was having 2 minute long contractions, 5 minutes apart. They told me I was staying to have a baby!
Now in my birthing suite, I took a bath, bounced on a medicine ball, walked around, and puked. Some time passed and as I’m laying in bed my midwife comes in and tells me my bloodwork came back with some weird news. My blood platelet count was extremely low, which meant no epidural. She didn’t seem overly concerned, more just surprised. I, however, was shocked. All I heard was “no epidural.” My birth plan was to have all the drugs. I wanted an epidural. I thought this had to be a joke.
I let that news settle in my brain while two nurses, my midwife and a doctor all tried to feel my cervix and couldn’t. They couldn’t tell how dilated I was, so morphine was out too. I tried to play it cool but I was freaking out. It seemed like all of my pain tolerance options were flying out the window and I was suddenly faced with the reality that I may have to do this naturally.
Later that night, the midwife and nurses came in and asked me how long it had been since I last peed. I thought, “What?! Who the hell cares? Why are you asking that?!” I had no idea how long it had been. Three catheters in and out later I was starting to get a little worried. This was not going like I thought it would. It just seemed like so many things were going wrong, but no progress was being made. I was still having contractions. They didn’t know how far along I was. My water hadn’t broke yet. It was late at night and I was exhausted.
And Then, Everything Changed
I remember a doctor, not my midwife, coming in late that night and saying very bluntly, “Erin you have HELLP syndrome. It’s very serious and you need to have the baby now. Your blood pressure is high. Your liver and kidneys are shutting down. You’re going to have an emergency c-section. You might look healthy on the outside, but inside you are very sick.”
At that moment, the severity of the situation didn’t register. I was honestly feeling a little relieved because I heard “c-section” and that meant I didn’t need to give birth naturally.
After what felt like hours, the doctor and surgeon came back in and said as a team they decided they weren’t comfortable doing my surgery at the hospital. I live in a fairly rural area and the small hospital was afraid they wouldn’t have the blood needed if there were complications. The doctor had only ever seen HELLP syndrome one other time, during his residency. So, the decision was made to send me to a larger hospital about an hour away. They loaded me into an ambulance, around 3:00 AM, during a thunderstorm. My wonderful midwife rode down with me, as my husband had to follow behind in our vehicle.
Once we arrived at the hospital, I was sent into a new room and our parents met us there. My husband had called them on the way down. As they rolled me down the hallway I passed my husband in a waiting room and gave him a thumbs up. I was sent into surgery and I truly believed this would be the end to all of the issues, but it was only the beginning.
Easton’s Birth
Our son, Easton, was born at 6:20 AM on May 4, 2018. He weighed 9 pounds, 14 ounces and was 22 inches long. After the c-section, I had severe hemorrhaging. I ended up needing three full blood transfusions and platelet counts. I aspirated into my lungs. I did not react well to the anesthesia and fought them taking the intubation tube out terribly. I was in the ICU for two days. I have no memory of meeting my son for the first time. Easton was in the NICU having issues related to regulating his blood sugars.
After 4 days in the hospital, Easton and I were both able to go home together. As I write this, he is 2 days away from turning three years old! I look back on Easton’s birth and I have a hard time wrapping my brain around how fast everything went so wrong. I feel so grateful that my midwife and the doctors at my small, rural hospital worked together to save both of our lives. I truly believe that if they had attempted the c-section there we wouldn’t have survived.
After that experience, my husband and I had lots of conversations about adding to our family. We had always planned and hoped on having two children. When I asked my midwife and doctors I was never given clear answers on whether or not HELLP would be an issue in subsequent pregnancies. We had talked it over and over and finally decided we would try again in the summer of 2020 after our son turned 2.
Ready to Try Again
In July of 2020 we began actively trying to conceive again. Then I felt a lump in my left breast one day when I was showering. I sat on it for a day or two. I called my doctor’s office and set up an appointment. I was told it was probably just a cyst, nothing to worry about. I was told I could have imaging done to check, or I could wait a few months and see if it changes at all. I decided it was best to just have a mammogram done while I was off of work for the summer. I went into that mammogram and ultrasound feeling fine. Then the radiologist came in and said “Usually I can tell right away what something is, whether that’s good or bad. With this…I can’t tell.” I had a needle biopsy performed and anxiously waited for the results.
While I waited, I knew there was a chance I could be pregnant. When I was originally told it was probably nothing to worry about, I trusted that. We didn’t stop trying to conceive. When I took the pregnancy test and it came back positive, I looked at my husband and said “What did we just do?” On the one hand we were so excited, but we also knew there was a slight chance I could receive some bad news.
Cancer and Pregnancy in The Same Week
In the same week I found out I was pregnant, I got the phone call I was dreading. “Erin we got your results back and it was positive for breast cancer.” I think I said “Thank you.” and hung up the phone. I immediately called my husband and told him to come home. And I cried. I can’t put into words what it feels like to be told you have cancer, especially as a 31 year old pregnant woman.
August 2020 was a crazy month of more imaging, doctor appointments, and information overload. I was diagnosed with Stage 1 triple negative breast cancer. I had a 1.8 cm tumor in my left breast. My doctors also knew I was newly pregnant. While some women can be treated for cancer during their pregnancy, my doctors did not like that option for my case. Triple negative breast cancer is aggressive, and we would have had to wait until I was in the second trimester to begin chemotherapy. They did not want to wait weeks to begin treatment. Ultimately, the decision was made that I would have a D&C to terminate the pregnancy.
I remember sitting in the surgeon’s office and she kept saying “Maybe this pregnancy would have ended in a miscarriage anyways. We just don’t know.” It felt like a punch to the gut. Yes, maybe that is true, but there is also the chance this baby would have been born perfectly healthy. I really struggled with feeling guilty that we still tried to conceive that month. It felt like it was my fault. I felt like I had to justify why we were choosing to terminate.
We scheduled the D&C for September, when I was 7 or 8 weeks pregnant. They forced me to have an ultrasound done to “confirm” the dates. We sat in that room and watched our little baby up on the screen and cried. The ultrasound tech said “I hope those are happy tears.” and I had to say “No. I have cancer and we don’t get to keep the baby.” That was one of the hardest days.
After my D&C I began chemotherapy. My first appointment I was still bleeding a little. I sat in the waiting room and had terrible cramps. They were running late, so I was sitting there for about an hour before they called my name. When I stood up I felt this huge rush of blood. I immediately asked for the bathroom and I had passed a big clot and what felt like an enormous amount of blood. I bled through my pad, my underwear, and pants. The chemo nurses had to give me a Depends to wear, an extra large pad, and scrub bottoms. As if beginning chemotherapy wasn’t traumatic enough, having this extra reminder of the loss I had just experienced felt like overkill.
Surviving Cancer
Fast forward and I write this 2 days after finishing my cancer treatment! Over 9 months I had 16 chemotherapy treatments, a lumpectomy and lymph node removal, and 20 radiation treatments. I can also proudly say I am cancer free!
We were given the go-ahead by my oncologist to begin trying again this summer. I was told that it will be difficult to conceive again due to my treatments. Chemotherapy puts you into a “medical menopause” and I am still waiting for my cycle to return. I’m already feeling anxious, nervous, and scared about what this new chapter will look like. How will I react if my period doesn’t return? How will I feel my cycle returns but we can’t get pregnant? How will I feel if we do get pregnant?
My journey into motherhood has been nothing like I expected. I’ve battled my way through a scary delivery, a termination, and cancer. I still feel sad some days that I have been forced to live through hard situations others will never have to experience. It doesn’t feel fair. Why do I keep having to prove how strong I am?
I know my journey is far from over. I know I will keep proving how resilient I am, no matter what.
About Me:
I am a mother, wife, breast cancer survivor, and 3rd grade teacher in Wisconsin. Feel free to reach out and connect with me on my Instagram account @etbackeberg.
